


and i was made for loving you

by amaanogawa



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dogs, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Flashbacks, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pet Store Employee, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 12:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14237649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaanogawa/pseuds/amaanogawa
Summary: "It's complicated that Keith resembles galaxies in the way his eyes shift from deep space purple one day to steel blue the next, complicated in the fact that Keith drives a motorcycle for heaven’s sake, fulfilling all of Shiro’s bad boy fantasies when he takes off his helmet and shakes out his hair in slow motion, all handsome and rugged and chiseled and great."ORShiro adopts a dog and subsequently meets a cute pet store employee that takes his breath away.





	and i was made for loving you

Ever since Shiro’s return from his deployment overseas, people have been suggesting that he get a service dog.

He hasn’t even come to terms with the anxiety attacks and the vivid flashbacks and the night terrors that all add up to his shiny new diagnosis of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. It’s a lot to take in at once, and he doesn’t at all like the idea of applying for a trained animal whose job is explicitly to follow him around and cuddle him whenever he spontaneously ends up in fetal position in the middle of his kitchen floor. It isn’t actually like that in any sense, Shiro knows, but regardless he can’t ever shake the feeling of being _broken_.

So when he somehow ends up at the animal shelter one chilly fall afternoon, Shiro isn’t even sure he wants a dog.

But he does want a friend.

He feels lonely all the time. His apartment is too empty, too quiet, too cold. It’s not that he’s isolated himself- Shiro has amazing friends that welcomed him back with warm arms, but they’re busy people with their own lives who he can’t expect to hang out with him constantly and coddle him like a child. He wouldn’t want that even if they were available, really. Hunk is always bringing over fresh pastries after his shifts at the bakery, and Lance frequently shows up just to make a scene before leaving as suddenly as he came. Allura, Matt and Pidge arrive on the pretense of “checking on the prosthetic”, like he doesn’t already have scheduled appointments with Coran at the hospital every other week.

Shiro has amazing friends. But he thinks that having one that can live at his apartment with him would make turning out the lights at night seem easier to do. Maybe make the nightmares a little less frequent, and a little less real.

It’s slightly intimidating walking into the animal shelter when he has no idea what he’s even looking for, but the volunteer at the desk is very friendly. She leads him down a hallway towards the back room where the dogs are kept.

“So, what kind of a breed are you looking for?”

“I, er, have no idea, actually. This was kind of a spontaneous visit.” Shiro clears his throat, keenly aware of her curious side glance at his metal hand just visible past his jacket sleeve.

“Well do you have a temperament you’d prefer?”

“Uh…a calmer temperament would be good, I think.”

She hums as she pushes on the double doors leading in to the room, holding it open for Shiro before letting it swing shut behind her. There are rows and rows of cages filled with dogs of every shape and size, and Shiro’s heart swells with sadness at how many of them there are. Most of them are pushing their noses at the cage doors once they hear Shiro and the volunteer come through the door, yipping and barking and staring with large, watery eyes.

Did Shiro say earlier that he wasn’t sure if he wanted a dog?

He was wrong. He wants all of them. He wants to take them all home and give them an entire world’s worth of love like they deserve.

“There’s so _many_ of them.” He whispers, eyes scanning the room in disbelief. Taking a few tentative steps forward, he raises his human hand to the nearest cage and a small, fluffy white dog presses its wet nose to his fingertips before giving him a slow lick. It’s heartbreaking. “I don’t know how to choose.”

“You’ll know when it’s the right one.” The volunteer supplies, standing by the door with a polite smile. “Some say that it’s not you who chooses the dog, it’s the dog that chooses you.”

With that piece of wisdom tucked into his pocket, Shiro continues down the rows of cages, looking but refraining from reaching his hand out like he did for the first dog, because he’s absolutely sure that he will not be able to resist taking the next one home. He thinks that he would feel more secure with a larger dog; the small ones look too much like they’re one misplaced step in the dark away from disaster, which puts Shiro on edge. There’s a beautiful mixed breed with short golden hair and flopped over ears staring at Shiro with big brown doe eyes, but something tells him to keep walking, pulling him towards the very back of the room.

His eyes are immediately drawn to the cage nestled in the back corner. It looks almost empty at first, and it’s not until he approaches the cage that two golden eyes flicker open from the shadowy depths inside. Shiro draws closer, curious, but the dog doesn’t emerge from the darkness.

“Excuse me,” Shiro calls out, not taking his eyes off of the golden gaze. “What’s this one’s name?”

The volunteer walks over to grab the clipboard hanging off the side of the cage, looking slightly troubled.

“Oh, this dog- well, this one isn’t really… she, er, doesn’t really connect well with anyone.” She says, flipping through the documents with a shake of her head. “I shouldn’t say this but I wouldn’t recommend this dog. She isn’t aggressive, but forming a bond with her is nearly impossible. She’s been here for months and still refuses to be touched other than to do her business, so I think it would be better for a more experienced dog owner to take her.”

“Can you let her out?” After listening to the long winded explanation, the feeling in Shiro’s chest is even more pronounced than before. He can’t explain it. The volunteer gives him a doubtful look, but goes ahead and unlocks the cage, pushing the door open on its squeaky hinges.

“Don’t be offended if she doesn’t come out, she usually won’t unless we leash her.”

Shiro takes a knee, keeping his eyes focused on the golden irises inside the cage, and slowly extends a hand towards the door.

“Come here, sweet girl.” He murmurs, and the golden eyes within the darkness blink once, twice, before there’s a shuffling sound and an inky black mass is emerging from the shadows.

The dog that steps out of the cage is _beautiful_ , a regal creature that embodies pride and strength in her very bones, and Shiro sucks in a breath at the sight of her. Judging by her appearance, she looks very similar to that of a German Shepherd with pitch black fur, albeit slightly larger than any Shiro has ever seen. She leans her snout forward to sniff at Shiro’s hand before taking a seat right there in front of him, tilting her head slightly as if in a question.

“Well, I’ll be.” The volunteer places her hands on her hips, smiling with a face of wonder. “What’d I tell you? It’s the dog who chooses you.”

“What’s her name?” Shiro asks, hesitantly reaching out to brush a hand down the dog’s thick mane. The clipboard with all of her personal details and the adoption papers is handed down to him, because the volunteer knows just as well as Shiro does that it’s clear he isn’t leaving the building alone.

“Her name is Kuro.”

\---

Shiro has a dog.

Kuro is sitting in the front seat of the car, staring at Shiro with curious eyes, tail wagging just a little. He reaches out to scratch the sweet spot behind her ear which she immediately leans into, pink tongue hanging out as she pants.

Shiro has a dog and absolutely nothing else.

No dog food. No collar. No brush, or food and water bowls, or toys. All he has an old, worn out leash that the volunteer had given to him out of pity, which he looped through its handle around Kuro’s neck as a temporary collar and leash in one.

Oh god, he is in over his head.

“I’m a mess, girl.” He coos at her, leaning in so that she can lap at his cheek. “What are we going to do?”

Pulling out his phone, he taps in _pet stores near me_ and watches as hundreds of red pins pop up all around his blue dot. Of course the pet stores would flock to the area where the animal shelter is at, all ready and waiting for horribly unprepared idiots like him to come bumbling through their doors. With a sigh of resignation, Shiro taps on a random pin close to where he is.

 “Buckle up.” He shoots Kuro one more smile before putting the car in reverse and backing out of his spot. The drive to the pet store only takes a few minutes down the main street before he’s pulling into the parking lot next to a simple looking building with white bricking and big red letters above the door.

_Kolivan’s Pet Supplies._

Shiro can only hope that whatever employee inside is willing to be his personal Owning A Dog For Dummies manual because he has absolutely no idea what he’s in for. Hopping out of his car, he walks around to open Kuro’s door, looping the leash around her neck and letting her jump out before locking up and heading towards the store entrance, where a small bell rings as he pushes inside. For the most part it looks just like your average pet store, with rows of metal shelves that hold all sorts of supplies for all kinds of pets. There isn’t anyone by the counter, but as Shiro wanders around with Kuro sniffing curiously at the fish tanks, he hears a muffled _thump_ from the back shelves and walks towards it.

When he rounds the corner, a man in a red t-shirt and ripped black skinny jeans with a black cloth apron tied around his front is bent over some astoundingly large bags of dog food. He’s got his dark hair tied up in a small ponytail, and his hands are covered with fingerless black gloves.

“Excuse me,” Shiro starts, staring down at the man. He’s not _small_ , per se, but his arms are definitely thin enough that Shiro is a bit scared of him trying to move all those bags by himself, seeing as each look to be around at least 25kgs. “I was wondering if I could get some assistance?”

And then the man lifts his head, and Shiro has to physically restrain his jaw from dropping. He’s stunning, his hair falling down in wisps, framing big eyes that shine almost violet, and a mouth that seems set in a permanent pout. His cheeks are dusted pink, probably from the exertion of hauling products into the supply room, and a drop of sweat rolls down to the point of his chin. Shiro tries not to follow it with his eyes.

“Oh, yea, sure.” He grunts, reaching up to wipe at his forehead with the back of his arm. “I’ll be right there.”

“Do you, uh, need some help with those?” The likelihood of the man throwing out his back from trying to lift those bags makes Shiro uncomfortably concerned. Kuro pokes her head out from behind him, nose twitching in the air as she smells the dog food.

“Huh? No, no.” The man’s eyes drift from Shiro’s face to Kuro, and his mouth curves from a pout to a small smile. “Just give me a minute.”

With that, he grabs the top _three_ bags with both hands and simply heaves them up against his chest before trekking into the supply room. Just like that. This time Shiro’s jaw _does_ drop, because holy shit. Those bags together look like they weigh more than the man himself does and the fact that he can lift them without even blinking is…impressive, to say the least. It takes a few more minutes of the employee hauling bag after bag into the supply room before he emerges, looking slightly worn out but nonetheless gorgeous.

“Sorry about that.” He says, closing the door behind him. “What can I help you with?”

Shiro opens his mouth, and then closes it. He’s more than a little embarrassed to admit his predicament, because how daft do you have to be to accidentally adopt a dog without being at all prepared to take care of her?  “Uhm. I have a dog.”

“I can see that.” The employee lifts an eyebrow, eyes dropping down to where Kuro is still lingering half behind Shiro and half peeking out, gaze observantly fixed on the man’s face. “Is it okay if I pet her?”

“Oh, I think she’s a little shy, but of course.” Shiro shuffles to the side so that Kuro is left facing the employee, who crouches down onto his hackles and extends a hand.

“Hey there, beautiful.” He says, tone sweet, his eyes going soft in the corners. Kuro isn’t as immediate to respond to him as she was with Shiro back at the animal shelter, but she eyes the man’s hand as she sniffs from where she’s sitting. The employee isn’t deterred, simply adjusting his position so that he’s more comfortable and keeps his hand lifted. “It’s alright. You can come here.”

Kuro takes a slow step forward, and then another, touching her snout to the employee’s hand for a brief second before gracefully accepting an ear scratch. The smile on the man’s face is radiant as he pets her, touch gentle, before he stands up and brushes the dust off of his knees.

“Her name is Kuro,” Shiro supplies. “And I’m Shiro, by the way.”

“Black and white, huh? Cute. My name’s Keith. How can I help you today?”

Trying not to flush at being called _cute_ by the cute pet store employee, Shiro busies himself with pretending to cough into his hand, willing the burn away from his face before he speaks.

“So, uh. My predicament is that I have a dog and none of the necessary supplies for owning a dog because I am horribly, horribly unprepared. Do you think you can help me out?”

Keith stares at him, brow raised, before cracking a bemused smile. “Lemme guess. You went to the shelter just to take a look but fell in love and spontaneously adopted her?”

Shiro winces, lifting his shoulders with a sheepish grin. “You got me.”

“It happens more often than you’d think. Lemme give you the immediate basics and you can add any extras as you see fit.”

A sigh of relief heaves through Shiro’s lips as Keith starts leading him up and down the aisles of the store, throwing dog supplies in his procured cart left and right with a brief description of each. He’s patient yet efficient, spending no more and no less time than he must before moving on. Every so often he pauses to ask if Shiro has any questions, but to be completely honest, Shiro’s mind is so muddled between the shock of suddenly owning a dog and the dark amethyst of Keith’s eyes that he finds himself shaking his head no despite being confused beyond belief. Before long they make it through to the cash register, where Keith starts to ring and bag each item with impressive speed.

“You look overwhelmed.” He comments, eyeing Shiro carefully. “You sure you’ll be alright?”

Shiro laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It’s a lot to take in, but I’ll manage. I mean, how hard can it be? You just…feed them, and walk them, right?”

The weight of Keith’s gaze could probably drill holes into his skull with how intensely he was staring as he bags the last item with a sigh.

“Your total is $247.42.” He says, accepting the credit card Shiro slides towards him and processing the transaction. There’s a slight pause, and then hesitancy in his voice as he speaks. “Listen. I’ll give you my number. You can text me if you run into any questions regarding Kuro and I’ll do my best to help.”

“I- no, I couldn’t possibly-” Shiro stammers, eyes wide. “I wouldn’t want to bother you like that.”

Instead of responding, Keith grabs Shiro’s receipt from the machine and scribbles on the back of it with a pen from his apron pocket, thrusting it into Shiro’s hands, resolution set in his eyes. He insists on helping Shiro to his car but takes all of the bags, four in each hand with a full sized bag of dog food slung over his shoulder, and packs it all neatly into Shiro’s trunk before throwing a wave over his shoulder as he heads back inside.

There may have been a slight hint of a flush starting on Keith’s cheekbones just before he turned to leave, but that may just be from carrying so many things.

Regardless, Shiro clutches the wrinkled receipt too tightly as he stands, dazed and wide eyed, alone in the parking lot staring after Keith long past the moment he disappears into the store.

\---

Shiro learns a lot about owning a dog in the immediate days that follow.

One. Dog hair becomes a part of you. It engraves itself into your very being. There is hair everywhere; all over Shiro’s furniture, in tufts rolling like tumbleweed across his floors, on his counters, in his mouth, on his bed, in his food, and somehow in places that he knows for a fact that Kuro has never been. He goes out and purchases a vacuum specifically for pet hair, which he doesn’t even bother putting away after he uses it. It stays on standby permanently.

Two. You will need more storage on your phone because somehow this dog is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen in your entire life. Your heart will dissolve at the very sight of her yawning or stretching or eating or falling asleep curled up tight like a donut. You do not know the next time you will have the opportunity to see donut-dog and therefore it is completely understandable that you require 74 pictures of her in that position, and they may all look the same but the truth is that they are all slightly different. You keep every single one.

Three. You do not own the dog. The dog owns you. You have an image in your head of what owning a dog is like. For example: you, sleeping in your bed as your dog sleeps in _her_ luxury dog bed that you spent quite a lot of money on. But in actuality the way things happen is that you bring your dog home and her eyes immediately lock on to _your_ bed and she takes a flying leap at it, curling up right where you usually sleep. No amount of encouragement or luring her with treats will get her to use her own bed. You consider physically pulling her off and sternly telling her _no_ like a responsible owner would but then she looks up at you with big golden doe eyes and her tail happily thumps a few times against the covers and you just sigh and get in bed with her and coo _who’s a good girl_ at her because she is and she should know it.

These are a few truths that Shiro quickly learns to accept. They’re small sacrifices to exchange for the joy that Kuro brings him. She is a stable presence in his life that brings warmth to his home and calmness to his heart, and he can’t think of a single thing to complain about. Allura, Matt, Pidge, Hunk and Lance are thrilled for him but Kuro doesn’t take to them like the way she did with him and to a certain extent, Keith. She sits in the corner when they come over and watches them from that spot for hours, unwilling to go up to them or let them touch her. This only makes them all the more determined to get into her good books and it turns into a competition of sorts; the first one to win Kuro’s trust gets their meal paid for by everyone else next time they go out to eat.

The winner ends up being Hunk, because he brings homemade dog treats _made with_ _real pâté_ and even Kuro is helpless against Hunk’s baking. She curls up against his feet, stomach sated and happy, as the others grumble about what a cheap tactic it was.

The first time she chews on his house plants and vomits a puddle of yellow-green goo onto Shiro’s floor, he doesn’t _text_ but _calls_ Keith in a panic, frenzied from the thought of possibly having poisoned Kuro. Keith stays on the phone with him for 45 minutes until he calms down, tells him that dogs chew on plants to help with digestion and sometimes it makes them vomit which is okay, then sends him a link to a list of house plants to keep away from dogs after they hang up. Shiro stays up the entire night anyway to make sure that Kuro is still breathing, and brings Keith coffee and donuts the next day to thank him.

He returns to Kolivan’s Pet Supplies three more times in that same week, always on the pretense that he _remembered something else he wanted to get_ which is a big fat lie because he still doesn’t know anything about owning a dog past the basics and Keith was so thorough the first time around that there wasn’t any need to buy anything else. But Shiro goes and picks out a random dog thing that he thinks justifies him driving to Kolivan’s specifically and then he chats with Keith for an hour at the cash register after his purchase. He tries not to melt into goo whenever Keith gets down on his knees and honest to god giggles when Kuro starts licking his face, tries not to stare when Keith chews on the back of his pen as he takes inventory. It’s more than a little hard not to get starry eyed when Keith tells him that he also has a dog, and then, with his elbow on the counter, leans his cheek against his hand with a bemused chuckle and says “funny thing is, her name is Red. I guess we match.”

A few days later Shiro taps out a text to Keith with shaky fingers, inviting him and Red to the dog park.

 _Thought it would be a good idea to socialize Kuro_ , he had written, and Keith had replied almost immediately with a single ‘sure’ and nothing else.

When he gets to the dog park that Saturday morning, Keith is already there with a gorgeous mahogany retriever, tossing a Frisbee around with deft hands as Red chases it.

“Keith!” Shiro calls, Kuro trotting at his heels.

The wind picks up just when Keith turns, blowing his hair into his face and he lifts a hand to brush it away, eyes sparkling, lips pink, flower petals lifting in a whirlwind around him as soft acoustic music starts playing in the background-

Okay, maybe most of that is entirely in Shiro’s imagination- but what isn’t fantasy is the way Shiro’s heart thumps when Keith smiles and says _hey_ , the way his blood thrums with happiness the entire time they’re together, how comfortable he feels when Keith stands just a little too close for a casual acquaintance. Kuro and Red spend the day chasing each other around until their tongues hang sideways out of their mouths and that’s when Shiro suggests that they head back to his apartment for some R&R, and maybe Keith and Red could stay for dinner.

He fries up some salmon steaks and allows Keith to help with peeling and chopping the side vegetables, and to be completely honest, standing there with the smell of good food in the air and Keith by his side, his apartment feels more like _home_ than it has in the months since he returned from overseas. They talk and eat and laugh, and when they finally take a breath and realize how _quiet_ the house is, they go in curious search of the house for any sign of two rather large dogs that shouldn’t logically be so scarce.

When they peek into Shiro’s bedroom to find Kuro and Red curled up next to each other, Red’s chin tucked up against Kuro’s neck, Shiro laughs and suggests they watch a movie and let the two sleep a little longer.

When, halfway into the movie, Keith falls asleep just the same, slumping so that his head is pressed up against Shiro’s arm, Shiro chooses not to wake him up even past the credits scene. As the television screen turns black from inactivity, Shiro curls his fists tight against the tops of his thighs, feeling oddly like the skin of his arm is on fire- it’s the first semblance of feeling he’s had in _that_ arm, the one with no skin, no nerves, no flesh, since he lost it all that time ago.

All that he’s learned is what he has known since the first time he set eyes on Keith; that somehow, Keith has the ability to make him _feel_ , in the truest, rawest form he hadn’t even known he was capable of knowing, so much so that he feels Keith even where he no longer exists.

\---

“You’re dating someone.”

“No.”

“Yes, you _are_.”

“Allura-”

“I’ve never seen you so… _sparkly_. Don’t you lie to me, Shiro.”

The tip of an elegantly French manicured index finger is thrust mere centimeters from his nose, piercing sapphire eyes staring into his soul from the other end. Letting out a weary sigh, Shiro places his hand around Allura’s and lowers it to the table. “I’m not dating anyone. I met someone recently, but we’re just friends.”

 “But you like him.” It’s a statement, not a question. Shiro doesn’t even bother refuting it, simply nods as he swirls his wine glass dejectedly in one hand. “So? What’s stopping you from being more than friends? Have you told him?”

“No, I haven’t told him. It’s complicated.”

And it _is_ complicated. It’s complicated that Keith resembles galaxies in the way his eyes shift from deep space purple one day to steel blue the next, complicated in the fact that Keith drives a _motorcycle_ for heaven’s sake, fulfilling all of Shiro’s bad boy fantasies when he takes off his helmet and shakes out his hair in slow motion, all handsome and rugged and chiseled and _great_. Along with Kuro, Keith is one of very few good things that Shiro has _gained_ since coming back from a place where all he did was lose, and he can’t bring himself to potentially ruin that. He won’t.

“Shiro.” Allura sighs, shifting her hand so that it lays on top of Shiro’s, brows dipping together sadly. “You deserve something great. This person would be daft not to feel the same way about you. I wish you saw that.”

Her words resonate through his mind all throughout dinner as they sit on their favourite Italian restaurant’s patio with Kuro lying peacefully by their legs, her leash looped around the leg of the table. Even after he hugs Allura goodbye and begins the walk home, Shiro can’t stop thinking about Keith. He may be willfully obtuse when it comes to Keith, but in the depths of his heart he knows about the way Keith looks at him when he thinks he isn’t looking. He also knows that Keith isn’t the type of person who just gives out his personal cell phone number to customers in need simply from the good of his heart. But despite all the evidence pointing towards reciprocated feelings, for some reason or another Shiro can’t seem to move forward with them.

These are the thoughts that he’s ruminating over, walking down the busy downtown streets with Kuro tugging slightly on her leash, when he hears the gunshot.

Instantly it’s like someone has dunked him headfirst into ice cold water and his reflexes are automatic. He dives into the dark alleyway to his left, tugging Kuro’s leash with him, and rolls so that his back is pressed up against the cold metal of the alleyway dumpster, effectively shielding himself from the street. There are explosions all around him, the unmistakable _rat-a-tat-tat_ of machine guns, _the smell of burning flesh-_

People are yelling, debris and shrapnel whizzing through the air, piercing his clothes, his skin, and the only thing Shiro can think of is survival, nothing but that, so he presses himself closer to the dumpster, no, _the bunker_ , and clutches his M16 to his chest. He has to get home. He has to survive this. He has people waiting for him-

And just like all the times before where surviving seemed like an impossibility, he squeezes his eyes shut and whispers his mantra. _Allura, Hunk, Matt, Pidge, Lance, Coran_. He has to survive to return to them because he doesn’t want to break their hearts, doesn’t want them to stand in the military plane hangar and watch a bunch of shiny uniforms unload his casket and keep nothing but a flag.

He has to survive. There is no other option.

Allura, Hunk, Matt, Pidge, Lance, Coran.

Allura, Hunk, Matt, Pidge, Lance, Coran, _Kuro_.

Allura, Hunk, Matt, Pidge, Lance, Coran, Kuro, _Keith_.

Keith.

That’s right, he has to get home to see Keith again. So that he can tell Keith that he’s never felt this way about anyone before, so that he can hold Keith’s hand and kiss him the way he’s been wanting to do for what feels like forever. Shiro needs to live and find Keith and tell him that somehow his very existence makes Shiro feel like he’s burning so bright he’s in danger of burning out altogether, and _he would_ , he would willingly collapse in on himself like a dying star if only it meant being able to see Keith one last time.

He squeezes his eyes shut, prays to every god he knows of to let him live, and when he feels fingers wrapping around his forearm his first instinct is to kill or be killed. Kill or be killed and he cannot afford to be killed here, littered in the desert and left to be forgotten. He grips the arm that comes for him, twists and clenches his hand so tightly his fingers creak and all he can see is red, red, _Red_ -

Red. That word meant, _means_ , something to him, he’s sure of it.

“Shiro.”

The voice is soft.

“Shiro, it’s me. Keith.”

Keith.

His vision fizzles into place as he blinks. Keith.

“That’s right. It’s Keith. Can you hear me Shiro?”

He can hear Keith’s voice, but it shouldn’t be here. Keith shouldn’t be here. It’s much too dangerous, Shiro has to protect him, he has to-

“Shhh. Shiro, it’s okay. It’s safe here. Look at me.”

And Shiro does, because there’s nothing he wants to do more, and when he cracks his eyes open to look, true to his word Keith is right there in front of him, still in his usual work apron. Those are the eyes that Shiro loves so much, the ones that make him feel right in the hollows of his bones, _deep space purple_ with stars in their midst.

“Keith.” It comes out like a prayer, like the last wish of a dying man because it’s only then that Shiro can finally breathe, sucking in deep lungfuls of air as if he’s been drowning here for days.

“There you are. Welcome back.” Keith smiles, reaching out to place a hand on Shiro’s sweat covered cheek.

Shiro tries his best to speak but he feels _exhausted_ , like all his energy was sucked right out of him, and it’s only then that he realizes he’s still gripping Keith’s forearm with his metal prosthetic. With a gasp, he releases his hold to find long, finger-shaped welts quickly turning an angry shade of crimson across Keith’s skin. “Oh my god. Keith. Shit, I’m so sorry-”

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s just a bruise. It doesn’t even hurt.” Pulling Shiro into his arms, Keith places a hand on the back of Shiro’s neck and the other in the dip between his shoulder blades. “It’s okay. Let’s just get you home.”

He nearly passes out when Keith hauls him to his feet, but somehow finds it in himself to shuffle his feet while Keith all but carries him the 10 blocks back to his apartment. Keith seats him on the couch as he disappears, coming back with a glass of water that he presses into Shiro’s hands and stares until Shiro takes a shaky sip. Seemingly satisfied, he disappears again and returns with a clean shirt and the first aid kit Shiro keeps under the bathroom sink.

“Off.” Keith says, and Shiro doesn’t even think about why he can’t take off his shirt until he’s already taken it off. He can see Keith running his eyes across his torso, at the multitude of dips and bumps and entire craters embedded into his skin, before he sits on the coffee table across from Shiro and opens the first aid kit. Shiro can’t rip his eyes away from the red-purple mass in the exact shape of Shiro’s hand on Keith’s arm, and he reaches for it.

“Keith.” He whispers, running light fingers across the angry bruising, voice sounding broken. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. It’s the last thing I wanted- fuck-”

“It’s okay, Shiro. Just let me take care of you.”

It isn’t until Keith presses a wet cloth to his shoulder that Shiro realizes he’s bleeding, probably from when he initially dove to the ground, and he lets out a hiss through his teeth at the stinging pain.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Keith murmurs, eyes softening. “They’re not too bad. I’ll be quick.”

“How did you find me?”

“Kuro came to the store and led me to you.” The washcloth drags down his shoulder, cleaning the dried blood and dirty street water from his wounds. “She was pawing at the door and barking so loudly I could hear it from the back room.”

Hearing her name, Kuro crosses the room from where she had been sitting and watching them protectively, nosing her snout under Shiro’s hand with a soft whine. He pets her weakly, smiling with gratitude. “You’re amazing, girl. Thank you.”

Kuro wags her tail, giving Shiro’s hand a few soft licks before huffing in satisfaction, happy that Shiro seems to be safe now, and makes three turns on the spot before plopping down right at Shiro’s feet.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this, Keith.” Shiro begins, not even sure how he could possibly make this up to Keith, or even have the dignity to face Keith ever again. This was the last thing that he wanted- for Keith of all people to see him stuck in a flashback, facing his demons and losing, not to mention the fact that he had _hurt_ Keith. The hatred digs at his insides with a sharpened pickaxe, swinging again and again at his bones until they shatter; it builds like bile rising in his throat and he squeezes his fists into balls to cling on to some form of rationality. He hates that he’s so broken, hates that he can’t even walk down the damn street without being thrown headfirst into an imaginary battlefield. He hates, he hates, _he hates_ -

Before he even knows it Keith is pressing their lips together, so gentle that Shiro almost doesn’t feel it aside from the ghost of Keith’s breath against his face.

“Stop. Please.” Keith whispers, hands cupping Shiro’s cheeks, unknowingly to him wet with tears. “Please, look at me.”

And Shiro does, and god, every time he does so he is no less stunned by how beautiful Keith is- he is gorgeous, terrifyingly so. He is the calm of the ocean minutes before it tears you apart, because people can look at its glimmering waters and call it _pretty_ but it isn’t until you are a small, small fishing boat trapped in a hurricane do you understand that the ocean is pretty but more than that it is tempestuous and vast and it will drag you down to the depths of the earth if you let it. And that is what Shiro is- a fishing boat clumsily crafted from popsicles sticks and glue and he is drowning in Keith’s midst.

“I want to be with you.” Keith says, breath hitching. “I want to be here for you. If you’ll let me.”

“But I’m-” The next word freezes on Shiro’s tongue. _Broken, damaged, small, helpless_ -

“Perfect.” Keith finishes for him. “You’re perfect.”

It’s all Shiro can do to pull Keith into him and desperately crush their lips together because Keith is here and he’s calling Shiro _perfect_ , even if he’s battered and bruised and quite literally missing pieces of himself. It’s almost laughable- him, perfect. The two words don’t fit together in a single sentence in Shiro’s mind, but Keith believes he is and that’s all that Shiro needs for now. The kiss is wet and salty from the tears rolling down Shiro’s cheeks and Keith kisses him regardless, their lips clumsy and slippery and this, Shiro _does_ believe, _is_ perfect.

When Keith pulls away from Shiro’s lips he moves to kiss the scar that spreads itself across the bridge of Shiro’s nose.

“Keith-”

“Shhh.” Keith whispers. “Just stay still.”

They sit there like that for an unintelligible amount of time, Keith pressing his lips to every single one of Shiro’s scars. There are a lot of them and Keith takes his time, mapping out the cities and countries and continents across Shiro’s skin, kiss after kiss after kiss. Shiro has never felt more vulnerable than right then, feeling like he has cut out his own heart and laid it in the palm of Keith’s hand.

It’s a foreign feeling, but not an unpleasant one.

Shiro knows that Keith will keep it safe.

Keith laces his fingers with Shiro’s, pulls him to his feet and leads him to his bed.

“I have to go, Red is still at my place.” Keith says gently, pushing Shiro to sit.

Shiro wants so badly to ask Keith not to go, wants to tell him that the nightmares are always the worst after a flashback and Shiro is terrified of closing his eyes, but it’s unbelievable enough that Keith is here and Shiro doesn’t know how much he’s allowed to ask for before Keith disappears before his very eyes like wisps of smoke.

“I’ll be back in 15 minutes.” Keith finishes, shrugging his jacket on. “Wait for me, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“You’re- you’re coming back?”

The smile Keith gives him melts his worries. “Of course I am.”

Keith leaves and Shiro keeps himself occupied with his usual routine when anxiety is coursing through his veins- he does pushups, over and over and over again until his mind is as numb as his arms are. He reaches 318 before he hears the front door opening again and Red is bounding in to lick at his face.

“What are you doing?” Keith plants his hands on his hips, shooting Shiro an unimpressed look. “You should be resting, not working out.”

In a matter of moments Keith has the lights off and Shiro in bed and wrapped with his duvet like a human burrito, Keith tucked up against the crook of his neck. The night seems too surreal to be true because mere hours ago Shiro had just been telling Allura that he couldn’t tell Keith how he feels and now here he is, lying in his bed with Keith in his arms. But really, even if it isn’t real; for a guy who has nightmares almost every single night, a good dream like this seems more than overdue.

“What was it?” Shiro whispers, just as sleep is pulling at his eyelids. “That triggered my episode.”

There’s a pause before Keith responds, fingers running through Shiro’s hair comfortingly. “A mover dropped a fluorescent lightbulb.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t think about it.”

“Okay.”

“Close your eyes.”

“Okay.”

“I’m here. I won’t leave you.”

“Okay.”

Shiro drifts off to the sound of Keith’s voice.

He sleeps peacefully through the night.

\---

“Babe. Stop feeding them scraps, it’s bad for them.”

“It’s not like I’m giving them anything _bad_. It’s just chicken! They deserve it.”

“ _Takashi_.”

Shiro stares up at Keith from where he’s seated at the kitchen counter, raising his brows and sticking his bottom lip out just enough to get Keith glaring.

“No. Nuh uh. You always do this and you’re spoiling them rotten.”

Kuro and Red whine from where they’re seated beside him, watching with big doe eyes as Keith takes the piece of chicken from Shiro’s hands, tails thumping against the floor.

“Keith. Look at them. They’re good girls, Keith.”

“ _Oh for Christ’s sake_ -”

Shiro barely manages to dodge the chicken that Keith chucks at him, bolting out of his chair in an instant to tackle Keith to the floor and dig his fingers into Keith’s sides. He can hear the dogs scrabbling to be the first to get to the abandoned chicken, and between that and Keith squirming and kicking up a storm from beneath him, Shiro can’t help but feel his heart swell with love for his own little family.

“ _Takashi_ , I’m going to kill you- stop! Tickling is fighting dirty, no stop I swear to _god_ -”

He breathes in the picture Keith makes there on the floor, hair spilling across the wood like rich ink, cheeks flushed, laughter bursting from his lips as he fights and fights and Shiro will let him win eventually. He always does.

You can’t win against the grandness of the ocean, after all. All you can do is let it consume you, bare your heart and soul to it and hope that it will keep you safe within its glory.

**Author's Note:**

> one time i dropped a fluorescent lightbulb in a canadian tire and it exploded and i shit you not it sounded exactly like a gunshot
> 
> [my tumblr](https://amaanogawa.tumblr.com) / [ko-fi](http://ko-fi.com/A31851F8)


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